


Crimson Midnight

by Wolkov



Category: True Blood (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Human/Vampire Relationship, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Sweet/Hot, Vampire Bites, fangs out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23820385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolkov/pseuds/Wolkov
Summary: For many a century, Godric had lived for the hunt. It was to kill or be killed for him. Revel in the blood, sex, and death that came with being a Vampire, or miss the glory of being one. But bloodthirsty and vengeful, he no longer is. There is a chilling calmness to him, and he is now ready to meet the True Death to atone for all he's committed in the past--until a very human Mila enters his life and challenges everything he's ever known.Striking a deal with Eric Northman to save her mother's life, Mila thought it would be the easiest thing she'd ever do, but after suffering the explosion in Godric's nest, her life is caught up in the most ruthless yet passionate, horrific yet exhilarating, agonizing yet utterly magnificent ride ever.Now, torn in two, Godric must make the ultimate choice: meet the True Death and finally find peace or fight his way into Mila's heart and finally know heaven.**posting first three chapters in one go**
Relationships: Godric (True Blood)/Original Female Character(s), Godric/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! Another fic! You got meee
> 
> This is a True Blood fic I wrote a few years back but deleted because I wasn't updating it. But ever since I found the second chapter in my archives, I realized the potential it held and my love for Godric rekindled. So here it is. One and two might seem a bit different than three--since I wrote it a few days ago--and may seem a bit out of place if you find differences, but dw. Im just having more fun with the story, and hope you guys enjoy it too.

Crimson Midnight

Chapter One

In hasty movements, sweaty palms numerously skidded against each other, causing the initiator to nervously chew her lower lip. She paced around the kitchen space, some kind of tribal music playing in the background.

 _It's going to be okay_ , she reassured herself. Given the speed of the vampires, she knew it'd also end fast. Hopefully. _I mean_ , she thought with a jittery mental shrug of her shoulders, how long would it typically take for this unknown creature of blood and death to sink their fangs in her throat, sip a few mouthfuls, and retract? Surely not more than a few heartbeats.

Oh, good gracious. What if it went wrong? What if the golden-haired vampire's companion concluded to hell with her life and drained her? No one would stop him or her. No one would care; hell, they might even join in on the party.

She stilled the rubbing of her hands. She had to leave, AB negative or not. Money or not. The sudden image of her mother's deathly-stricken face flashed through her mind, and a whimper escaped her throat.

No, no, she decided. Can't leave. _Mommy comes first_. Always. Swallowing down the rising tears down her throat, she continued her pacing.

She was currently in the kitchen of this mansion of a house, the interior design ready to make millionaires weep, but more specifically her, and she wasn't even the m to illionaire.

The taste was masculine—nonetheless lavish—no sign of feminine touch. The space before her possessed white cabinets and cupboards, the kitchen counter, stationed in the centre, was full Dalbergia wood, and around it were bar stools made from the same wood with white leather for heads. The flooring was grey-and-golden marbled. The walls, too, were marble-white.

But as for the other walls, they varied from room to room. The house had grey walls, black walls, stony walls, and had crystalline lamps of every size hanging from the centre of certain areas. The living room she bypassed on her entry had lavish sitting sofas, a stony fireplace that, instead of being short it actually arched all the way to the ceiling, its wild fire crackling its angry flames; plush carpets ranging from the darkest grey to the lightest, dining tables made of dark wood, and curtains flowing down from windows as tall and wide as the walls themselves, further complimented the house's rather dark, artistic and singular design.

But what liquefied her insides the most, was the aroma drifting in the house. It had the alluring scents of sandalwood moulding with the scent of rain-touched dark wood, that had the atmosphere in the rooms pulsing to some type of call from nature. It was calming, almost spiritual.

It also was not fair.

They couldn't be impeccably beautiful, unmatchable in strength, and also smell wonderful. Perhaps the house was perfumed, but it didn't matter. Their strength alone was a force to reckon with, if one even had the guts initiate such a war cry. Life took as much as it gave.

Oh, she drily thought. Totally forgot about the sun part. The glory and warmth of the burning star was not theirs to witness, silver and wooden sticks were their sworn enemies, and they only survived off of synthetic blood and human blood—as far as she knew. Although the latter bordered closely to the human race's defence, Mila knew the tongue-gasmic pleasures worldly food could offer, and felt sort of sad that they weren't physically able to experience them. A pity. It would've saved a lot of human lives.

Vampires mingled about her in the same kitchen space, some talking and laughing, some drinking Tru Blood and even sharing them, and some eyeing the real deal—her—with dark intent in their predatory orbs. They couldn't touch her; the blond vampire strictly ordered so, and whosoever did would pay with their fangs, their hands, each limb and then finally head. _His friend certainly seems to be held in high regard._ They complied with an angry hiss, but they complied.

It should've somewhat eased her but it didn't. She was scared. She wanted to go home, back to the promised safety of her walls.

Alas, she couldn't. Not without doing what she first came here to do—offer her AB negative blood to the vampire's companion and receive payment in return. It was immoral, yes. Wrong? Definitely. But she was desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures. She'd tried everything, but nothing seemed good enough or fast enough. So, through some connections and names, she put herself up on the market, and not a day later, she received a call.

It was a miracle, she'd concluded. Her type was extremely rare, but it was a rarity the blond vampire's friend seemed to favour. She'd offered it for a price. A big one. But to the vampire the sum was a matter of the shrug of the shoulders. His only concern was how fast she could get here, and within the hour, she was escorted. Perhaps he, too, was desperate.

And now she waited, her nerves panicky and on the brink of sending her full-on nuts. _It's okay_ , she thought again. _I won't be harmed. I'll be fine. Just..._ A vampire bared his sharp fangs at her, and then licked his lips, as though already tasting her _... Fine_. She gulped.

Suddenly a blond head came into her sight, and she exhaled in utter relief. She wasn't sure why though, she was going to be fed upon, a notion she was fearing a moment ago. The extremely and wonderfully tall vampire approached her, his facial features dark and menacing—just like his strides—but also somewhat angelic. Perhaps it was because he possessed golden locks that were slicked back, and blue eyes. He also had pouty lips that had a seductive curve to them, adding more to that angelic façade. But there was nothing angelic about them; they were natural "made" killers.

And she was offering herself to one.

It must be done, for her mother. And it'll be done. She was very close to achieving her goals. So what if she let a vampire drink from her? So what if she carried bite marks? If it meant her mother survived because she carried those fang marks, she'd even bear them with pride.

Hope grew in her chest, splaying its fluttery wings apart, ready to leap skywards. Her mother would be saved.

_AB negative coming right up!_

The male came to a stop before her, his head tipped down to ground her in her place against the kitchen counter. Slightly caving, she stared up at him. He had a blank expression, almost indifferent, and it uneased her rather than not. It didn't matter, soon he'll utter words that'd lead to her success.

"You are not needed. You may leave."

For a moment, she stared up at him in stupor. Then, the reality of his words sunk in, and her spine snapped straight. She was rejected. But... But... Vampire... Blood... Need... How was this even...

"But I have AB negative blood, a type you said your friend needed. What changed?"

He stared at her for a moment, expression still blank, then turned on his heel to leave, clearly not deeming her worthy of his answer. Frenzied, she, too, bolted into action.

"Wait," she released, grabbing onto his arm.

A sudden ferocious snarl erupted, and he was in her face the next moment, deadly fangs bared. Mila swallowed her scream and jumped back in absolute fright. "I-I'm sorry," she croaked out, leaning against the counter.

"Touch me again, and I'll drain you myself." With that, he strode off in that same calm yet war-promising fashion. It was only after her lungs started to burn she realized she wasn't breathing. Loudly inhaling, she felt her wildly fluttering heart throb in her chest. She flattened her hand against it, willing it calm down. It didn't.

Releasing the kept breath, she straightened, gently brushing her palms over her stomach. It was starting to churn with nausea. She needed fresh air, especially after such a horrid revelation, never mind the display of the vampire's temper. She had to find another way to get the money. _It was too good to be true from the start._

As she lifted her face, it was then she realized every vampire eye in the kitchen was on her. Oh, blimey. There were two entrances to the kitchen; she chose the one closest to her. Slowly, she began to inch towards it.

"I call dibs," one female vampire said.

"I saw her first," another voiced.

"Well, I _smelled_ her first," a third butt in.

"You guys flatter me," Mila said with a nervous laugh. "But I think I'll pass."

The first female vampire mock-pouted at her. "Aww," she pityingly shook her head, "She thinks it's her choice."

Her companions laughed at her words, and more so at Mila's frightened expression. No, she couldn't be weak here. Not now. She had to find a way to escape unscathed from this place. Her mother needed her alive, and stay alive she would. Gaining needed courage from that, she tilted her chin up.

"Of course it is," she retorted. "It has been my choice since 1968." The year Native Americans emerged victorious from the battle they've been warring for ages, and claimed the rights as every other American citizen. Her mother was a Native American but her father was Russian, hence her name. He'd met her when he'd come for a business trip, and one look at her tanned skin, ebony hair and walnut-coloured eyes, he'd fallen head-over-heels for her. He'd settled in America for good, and after a few years, she was born. In her own native land. So, yes, it practically made her a Native American. "Now if you'll excuse me, I still desire to live and will get busy doing so."

She was about to make her grand exit when the female vampire appeared in front of her, and Mila gasped, taking a step back.

"Sweet," she traced her cheek with her index finger, "little," her lips, "girl," her throat. She stopped there. "Do you really think it's wise to give a vampire hundreds of years older than you a lecture in history? Tsk, tsk."

She brushed her finger away from her throat. "Only when you're in dire need of it."

A melodious laugh parted blood-red lips. "Funny human. Silly human." Her posture straightened, her fangs graciously revealing themselves. "You're going to die, human."

"Let's play a game!" Mila abruptly clapped her hands together when she spotted those fangs. _Oh, crap, crap, crappidy-crap!_

The vampire arched a brow. "It better consist of me chasing you and you running for your life."

"It rather much goes like this; I run and you wait until I reach my home and don't invite you in. Far better than yours, I know. You're unwelcome."

She hissed as her peers chuckled. "Sarcasm will do you no good, weakling. How about this? I give you a three seconds head start, and then I'll start ripping your body apart piece by unworthy piece until there's nothing left of you?"

Mila swallowed hard, then wet her lips. "I... liked my option better."

The vampire merely cocked her head to the side. "One."

Mila frowned, blinking. She then looked at the other vampires in the room.

"You better start running, girl," one of them said with a smirk. "She's not jesting."

"And you better run fast," another provided. "Because we'll all be coming for you."

Whipping her attention back at the vampire before her, she searched her face for proof, and felt her heart skip two beats. They were joking, right? They wouldn't do such a thing, right? But what did she know? This was the first time she was in the company of vampires.

Her heart skipped another beat.

"Two."

Reality slapped her hard in the face. No joke. They were going to kill her. She had to run. Now.

Run! Run, Ivanovna!

Commanding her legs into motion, she sprinted from the room and literally flew into the living room. Vampires. Vampires everywhere. Their savage eyes landed on her, but she didn't stop; she ran fast.

"Three," she heard the distant voice of the female say. And then nothing. That millisecond of quietness did something to her insides—it caused her belly to curl in on itself and tightly clench.

She also burst into tears.

In sheer trepidation and alarm, she sped straight towards the room adjacent to the living room, stationed right behind the towering wall of the stony fireplace, tears still blurring her vision.

Bursting into the new space, she was suddenly greeted by two figures. One standing and the other sitting.

Gasping, she came to an abrupt, jerky halt, the force inserted managing to trip her over her own feet and causing her to crash down onto the white, glossy marbled floor. Thwack!

Releasing a pained groan, she, for a moment, saw stars. Don't want to die, don't want to die, don't want to die! Also, "Ow, ow, ow."

With needed force, she lifted herself to her knees, and threw her wild caramel curls over her head. The big curls bounced before cascading down her back until her waist. She deeply inhaled, ushering in air to her deflated lungs.

Then she saw it.

Him. Sitting on a wide white chair with a beautiful female vampire standing to his side. For a moment, she couldn't speak, and didn't know whether it was from breathlessness or just sheer awe. Maybe both.

Ocean-blue eyes peered at her, a singular calmness to them, causing her heart to release a quick flutter. This time the reason for it evaded her.

The... male possessed God-favouring features; dark, slashing eyebrows crowned his eyelids, equally as dark but longer lashes framed his brooding silvery-blues, and skin alike crushed diamonds with a shade of pink dusting over his cheeks, the same pink coating his full lips, presented her an entity of only a rare kind. He had short-cropped dark brown hair, wore a light grey cashmere sweater, grey linen pants, and... her eyes narrowed as she examined him, had a tattoo on his chest; the deep V of his shirt revealed a part of it, and she suddenly got the urgency to have a peek on all of it.

He sat with his hands clasped on his lower belly, and had his ankles crossed.

A lone tear skidded down her cheek, snapping her out of her reverie, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. At that small act, she noticed, he regarded her with mild curiosity swirling in his blues. She did not mistake it for concern; there was a certain length of apathy to his demeanour.

She cleared her throat, rising to her feet. Tribal music with a mix of Indian tunes continued to play in the background. "Well, that was quite an entrance," she muttered to herself. The vampires outside that stilled their conversation to toss a glance at her, now moved on, dismissing her fall and going back to their chatter.

"Do you need anything?" His female companion arched a brow in her direction. She was draped all in black and sported killer heels. Her dark hair was loose, and she had a tanned complexion.

Mila once again snapped back to reality. Her chase. Her soon-to-come death. Her amber eyes widened.

"No, I do not want anything. I'm sorry to have barged in like this." Offering an apologetic smile, she twirled in place, studying the new area within seconds. She couldn't go out from the same way she entered. The fireplace was to her side, and it also seemed to play as a wall for this room, because she could see the living room from behind the wild flames burning in the hearth.

She was inside an office-space, she realized. A desk, chair, and a white laptop atop the desk stood to her other side. There was another exit right in front of her, and she bolted towards it. Before she exited, she stopped, turned, and gazed back at the two ethereal creatures.

"Do me a favour and tell whoever asks about a human girl with accursed curls that she went the other way. Thanks." Without realizing, she pinkie-waved at them.

The male vampire sitting gently blinked in her direction, his eyes neutral yet heavy to the feel. The contradiction caused the small hairs on her nape to prickle. Mila. Go! Right.

The moment she exited, she found herself slowly retracing back her steps. Oh-Oh. The vampires from the kitchen had her surrounded, the female vampire right in front of her. And, okay, her lungs were not working. Breathing suddenly became a too hard a task to see through.

"Hello, human," the female vampire uttered while tossing her a dark grin. One step, two, Mila inched backwards, not stopping. "It seems you weren't fast enough in our little chase. Pout, pout. So sad." She also smiled and waved to the figures behind her.

"Do you want to play another game?" Mila suggested with hope.

The female followed her steps, backing her up. "Do I get to drink your blood in it? If not, then no."

Suddenly irked, Mila stopped in her tracks, and did not realize she was stationed just a few feet shy from the vampire sitting on his chair. "What's up with you and my blood? I don't even know you. Did I say anything to offend you? I don't think s—huh, never mind. I did give you a brutal fact about history, but then again, you clearly needed it, so that doesn't count. Other than that, please get the stick that seems to be so far up your behind out of your behind and leave me be. Mind that I said please."

With an unexpected snarl, she launched at her, and Mila hastily scurried back, releasing a short scream in the process. Something hard slammed against the back of her knees, and she toppled down, losing her breath.

A hard surface but softer than the marbled-floor pressed against her thighs, and an equally as sturdy object pressed into her back. Dazed, confused, even, she tossed a look back. What the hell was—

Her eyes enlarged, and she loudly gasped, quickly leaping to her feet—only slamming back down when her left foot accidently knocked against her right ankle. For the second time, she released a mortified gasp. She'd fallen over the vampire sitting on the chair. The male, at the impact, merely issued a light grunt from the back of his throat. Her cheeks flushed a bright red.

A hand brutally snapped at her wrist, the source releasing a, "How dare you touch—!"

"Isabel," a charmingly accented voice rang out from behind her, stopping all commotion in the room. Mila winced when his companion released her iron-grip on her hand, and rubbed it to soothe the throbbing ache. She was just about to hurry off of the male vampire when cold hands clasped her shoulders, immobilizing her. At the moment of contact, sizzles erupted all over her body, surprising her.

Wait, was he holding her down for Kitchen Vampire?

"I'm so sorry, please let me go. I didn't mean to end up in your lap. Really. It was an honest accident—"

"Sheriff," Kitchen Vampire cut her off. Wait, Sheriff? "The human, we were just playing with her. It's always fang-tingling when they get all scared and their blood starts to rush through their veins. I just wanted to warm her up for the big feed, that's all."

Mila worked her jaw. She had come here striking a bargain with that blond vampire, a bargain ensuring her mother's survival. She didn't come here because she wanted to! She had no other choice. She refused to be some random vampire's blood bag.

"Maybe you should take a look at my T-shirt," Mila winked, "I wore it just for you." Her V-necked white shirt had the words If You Want My Blood, You Can Go Suck It! printed on them in bold black letters. She'd donned it just for the fun of it, now, it caused Kitchen Vampire to hiss at her, fangs bared and ready to rip through skin.

"Retract your fangs," the same soft yet commanding voice rang out. Although no heaty breath fanned against her neck, a cold one did, and goose bumps erupted all over her body. Kitchen Vampire complied with a sudden obedient look on her face, even a little bit of shame and fear.

"And you your claws, human," his voice resonated anew, this time directed at her. In disbelief, she tilted her face side-ways, her mouth hung agape.

"My nest will not be your feeding ground."

The vampires outside the room all paused, directing their attention to them. They were going to take a step towards them but one single raise of the female vampire's palm, and they all retreated. For a few seconds they watched, but then went back to their previous activities, deeming the occasion not one of serious matter.

"Yes, Sheriff," Kitchen Vampire and her peers said in unison, eyes downcast in obedience. The sight bombarded Mila. He was so... young. Well, appeared far youthful than the rest of them. And they drank up his words far willingly than they did human blood. And she was currently sitting in the lap of such an authoritative being?

At that thought, she tried to jump up. He didn't let her. Horrified, she attempted again, but the hands clasping her shoulders didn't budge. His hold on her was not even strong, it was easy, but that didn't in the least deter it from being demanding. It silently requested she obey or lose her life. She silently chose to obey.

"Sheriff, I saw her first—she is mine," Kitchen Vampire stated. Mila's attention snapped at her, her eyes gaping wide. "If you gift her back to me, I promise to cause her harm naught—"

"I'm not yours!" Mila cut her off. "Hello, I never was. You're also not my type; even if you were, ugh, what a drag that would be. I mean, have you talked with yourself? Death, death, blood, blah, blah. And don't even for a second think that I'd let you fang-rape me without me putting up a fight."

The female vampire to their side released an amused snort, Kitchen Vampire just narrowed her eyes at her. "You won't feel a thing, sugar pie."

Mila sheepishly shrugged. "I don't know about you, but that sounds like something a fang-rapist would say."

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop pursuing to fang-rape me, then."

A hiss.

"Enough." The male vampire's tone had a steely edge to it this time. She pursed her lips. "The human is unwilling; you will not touch her. Those are the rules, or have you forgotten? They will be respected, and in my domain, more so. That is my verdict."

His domain? This was his house? She also recalled him saying his nest. Goodness, she really had to get off his lap.

A beat of silence. Then, "Yes, Sheriff."

Nothing was said, but the vampires accepted that as their cue to take their leave. And they did, but not before Kitchen Vampire tossed her a sharp glare. Mila merely shrugged, opening her palms in a 'What can I do? Rules are rules' manner.

"Now," the male vampire started from behind her, and all amusement drained from her.

"Now," she echoed softly. He was going to deal with her. End her, most probably. She got the idea that no one insulted his people and got away with it.

"I'm sorry," she hoarsely rushed out before he could do or say anything. Her eyes focused on the part of the living room that was showing, not ready to confront him. Music played in the background as vampires conversed and laughed with each other. For a moment, they appeared like humans, doing mundane things. There was no blood—just Tru blood—bodies did not pile up each other on the floor, and no one was screeching in pain. Only hers would echo. Her lower lip wobbled at the thought.

She gently shifted in his lap, her eyes settling on his chiselled features. The proximity of their faces for a moment caught her off-guard. Blinking, she wet her lips. "Will it... hurt?"

The muscles below his eyes, for the briefest second, twitched at the fear in her voice. His lips still carried the hinting tug of an approaching smile that never really seemed to curve his pink petals fully. But more than that, his eyes bespoke about a gentleness she'd never encountered in any of the vampires here, and Mila searched them for even a subtle show of falsehood.

They did not lie.

His lush lips parted to speak, and her eyes immediately fell on them. She shamelessly studied their texture without even realizing what she was doing. They looked so... soft. So... "Pretty," she murmured, entranced.

Then the reality of her words registered, and her eyes widened, blood rushing to her cheeks. Her eyes snapped up at his, the heat in her cheeks further spreading down to her neck. Oh, God. She did not just say that. She _did not_ just say that. Her mouth opened to correct herself but no sound emerged.

At her actions, his lashes lowered, casting shadows on his cheeks due to the orange-red hue of the fire, then lifted. He, unaffected, spared her the embarrassment by saying, "You are safe and are free to go, human. They will not harm you."

For half a minute, all she did was stare at him, eyes unblinking. Then, "I am?" Miracle of miracles!

His female companion sighed, and Mila guessed she also rolled her eyes. "He also means you can now get off of him."

"Yes. Yes, of course," Mila rushed out, promptly climbing to her feet. The white diamond-shaped stones on her bracelet accidently got caught in the soft material of his sleeve, uncourteously steering her right back to him. "Oh!" she released, instinctively flattening her palm against his firm chest, stopping herself from falling back in to him. He blinked up at her face with a benign reaction. "Why does this keep on happening to me," she ground out under her breath. "I swear I'm not doing this on purpose."

Then, realizing where her hand lay, she snatched it away. "I-I... let me," she said instead, kneeling beside him on the floor and borrowing his arm for a moment. He allowed her. Brows furrowed in concentration, she began to unhook the edgy stones from his sleeve. She tossed him a 'just a second' smile. As she worked her fingers, her eyes incidentally landed on his hand, and Mila soon found herself admiring it. It was broad and pallid, hard and firm yet also smooth, and plump in its own masculine way. He had bony and profound knuckles, and the most peculiar thought of wondering how it'd feel to have those knuckles skid over her cheek in vampiric affection, crossed her mind.

Immediately ridding herself from such thoughts and the hot feeling that almost instantly followed such muse, she finished her untangling with a loud clear of her throat. "All done," she remarked, smiling at him. He offered a barely noticeable nod of his head, taking back his arm and placing it on his lap, a mellow, almost passive, tug on his lips.

For a vampire, Mila now concluded, he handled the whole situation with unanticipated diligence. She expected her head to role at his feet when she accidently settled herself on his lap, and then again, but he smoothed out the whole ordeal without even breaking a sweat. Did they even sweat? she now pondered.

"Girl," his female companion voiced.

She tilted her face up. "Yes?"

"I find your presence here to be one of peculiarity. You do not appear to have a vampire companion nor a human one for that matter. Your face is unrecognizable." She crossed her arms against her chest. "An intriguing dilemma, do you not agree?"

She pursed her lips. "Hmm?" _Oh, blimey, blimey, blimeydi-blime._ Calm. She could do this. "Oh," was all she managed to say. "I'm supposed to have a companion? Whoops."

She slightly narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"

"Okay," she began, wisely choosing to share her story. "I did come here with the request of this very tall and blond vampire. He stated his dear friend was in need of replenishment. But sadly, I was rejected; perhaps his comrade was feeling under the weather." She shrugged. "I was preparing to take my leave when Kitchen Vampire decided it was time I die. So rude, by the way. The rest is history. Will you give me an A+ or A++ for acing your test?"

"A few minutes ago, you called our friend a fang-rapist for daring to want to drink from you, now we hear your purpose here is to actually offer your blood?"

Mila raised a finger in defence. "A fang-rapist if she pursued to violate my very existing rights. Nonetheless, I struck a deal with the blond vampire, not your Miss I-Will-Kill-You-For-Blinking."

She now seemed more than intrigued. "What kind of deal?"

"Uh, a private one."

"What is your name, girl? I shall ask about you, because do not for a second think you will walk out of this nest without us gaining proof of your purpose here."

She nearly sputtered. "But I just s—"

"There is no need," the vampire in the chair softly interfered. Her attention switched back to him. Still calm. Still benign. "I can scent her blood all the way here. AB negative, the human Eric mentioned he prepared for me."

The female vampire eased back at that, not voicing anything against the male vampire's statement. But at his words, Mila's upper body perked up. He was the tall vampire's comrade and... he was the one that would've fed from her? At the heaty image of him sinking his fangs into her neck, goose bumps abruptly broke out all over her body and a hundred butterflies took flight in her belly. She attempted her best to crush the sensations, and semi-succeeded.

"Oh, sweet chocolate cupcakes, and I walked right into you? Well, tripped, but that doesn't matter. This is perfect!" Smacking her palms together, she shuffled closer to him. Would have? No. He definitely would. If she could convince him to drink from her, then her deal with the vampire Eric would still stand. She could pay for the therapy her mother desperately needed. Her sweet, sweet mother. Hope reignited in her chest.

"Why here," she flipped her curls all to one side, baring her neck to him, "Drink."

"No, thank you," he retorted, kindness still in his eyes. Given their animalistic nature, she didn't expect such chivalry from a vampire. Perhaps she misheard.

Waving his words away, she presented her wrists to him. "Drink?"

He offered the slightest shake of his head, lips curling a little at the edges. "I do not want your blood, human."

Okay. She heard him correctly. But far from offended, Mila scooted even closer to him, peering up at him. "I would, under normal circumstances, shower your face with kisses for saying such words but I'm not under normal circumstances. I need your fangs in me. Like, yesterday." Blunt, yes, but she was so close to closing her part of the bargain!

At her last words, his silvery-blues blinked in mild surprise, his brows even lifting for a moment before settling down. He said nothing.

She released a desperate sigh, gazing about her for further encouragement. She found nothing. She glanced back at him. "I can show you a few tricks, would you like that? No? Okay, uh, what do I know that'd cause vampire brains to blow out of proportion?" She tapped her chin, thinking. "I do ballerina. Well, not really. I just took a few classes." She pursed her lips. "When I was six."

The vampire said nothing but his eyes never left her face as she tried but miserably failed to persuade him. "Oh! I know. Let's rock, paper, scissor it. Three rounds. What do you say?"

"You will most certainly lose," the female vampire interjected, amusement dripping from her tone. "Vampires are known for their speed. Try something else, but fail this time round and you won't get another chance."

Mila tossed her a look. "Thanks for the encouragement. Dammit!" She punched the edge of the chair. "I knew I should've learned how to paint with only the use of my teeth. Elephants apparently paint with their trunks, and they're so good! But as you can see, I don't have a trunk. But I still thought it was genius. I mean, how could an animal even—"

"Girl," the female cut her off.

Mila sighed, concentrating on the vampire before her. "Listen," she started, voice serious and almost demanding. "I know you're not hungry right now, maybe you over-fed, I don't know, but what I know is that there's always room for dessert. And I really need you to eat that dessert. Believe it or not, this is a life and death situation, and you refusing to feed on me will not be the loss of one life but two." Guilt trapping people was sooo not her thing, but she was serious. She wouldn't be able to make it in this world without her mother. Especially not after what happened to her dad— Nope. Not going there. She just simply couldn't.

"So I beg you, please, take from me that I may have the right to take back in return. Please."

The vampire lowered his lashes, saying nothing. She formed her hands in a steeple. "Please, please, pretty please with a cherry on top of it. If you want, I can say the word in different languages. Pozhaluysta, bitte, s'il vous plaît, uh, uh, qǐng?" She timidly lifted her shoulder. What was she even saying? She didn't know Chinese.

Those dark, spiky lashes lifted. "Is your desire vampire blood, human?"

Mila jerked back, nearly even sputtered. "What? No!"

"Money, then." So effortlessly uttered. So matter-of-fact.

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes."

"For a loved one." Another statement.

She blinked at him, then formed a short nod. "Yes, my... mother."

He offered a faint nod of his own. "Is she dying?"

Mila shifted her gaze away, licking her lips and then biting down on them. "She will if I don't get the required money needed for her cancer treatment. I know this whole thing sounds so cliché, but it is the truth. I cannot lose her yet. Not this early." _Not ever_ , she finished mentally.

He focused his passive gaze on her. "What is your name?"

"Mila," she answered. "Ivanovna."

Another faint nod. "Isabel," he voiced, looking up at her. That was apparently all the female needed to understand his unspoken words.

Frowning, Mila glanced up at the female, who nobly inclined her head down at her Sheriff, and then tossed her an almost wicked grin. Turning, she clacked her way to the table, opened the white laptop and, after a few clicks and taps, said, "Very well, girl. Start giving me some personal information."

Her frown deepened. "Why?" Then realization dawned, and she gasped in horror. "Wait, are you reporting me to the police? I wasn't lying! Oh hell to the no, I'm out of here." She was already on her feet.

The female vampire rolled her eyes. "No, silly human. We are simply going to transfer some money to your bank account. Obviously."

Mila stilled, wondering if her brain suddenly had a stroke and she misheard. "You're what the what now?"

Another roll of the eyes. "Do you want me to spell it out on the sky with pink, smoky letters?"

Awww, she always wanted someone to do that for her. But back to the matter at hand—she didn't have a stroke; she heard correct. The male vampire was really going to transfer money to her bank account.

"No," she made out. She was struck dumb, to be quite honest. He couldn't give her money just like that; nobody did that. What was wrong with him? But more than that, what was wrong with her? Here it was, a clear opening for her to grab the chance, but here she was, suddenly a possessor of good morale. It just... it felt wrong. So very wrong. And plus, her mother taught her better. Nothing in this world was free; she had to earn it. She did nothing to earn _this_. Hence, "I'm sorry. I cannot."

She glanced down at the male vampire, smiling softly. "It's very generous of you, but I really can't accept that _much_ money." He didn't even know the sum he would've been sending her.

He merely gave her a calm look. "It is what you desired, Mila."

"Yes, but—," she stopped mid-sentence, caught off-guard in the way he pronounced her name. It was caressed and kissed and dipped into hot chocolate that was his accent before rolling out of his lips. It did... things to her insides, things she didn't understand. She abruptly shook her head, focusing on the more important issue.

"Yes. Yes, I know, but I did not earn it. You didn't drink from me, thus I cannot, will not, take money from you. Besides, my deal was with that vampire Eric you mentioned; you shan't answer for him."

"Leave him be, your affairs are with me now."

"I'm sorry," she took a step back, "It just does not feel right. I didn't do anything for you to show me such generosity." _But he's willingly offering it_ , her desperate inner voice called out. _Take it, for once in your life stop being a stubborn fool. It's for your mother._ The demand was tempting, oh, how tempting. But her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, and an invisible force held her back.

"You, a human, kept me company," was his reason.

She released a humourless chuckle, glancing down at her cut-off denim shorts, and then her booted feet. "Believe me, vampire, I know the price of my company and it is not equivalent to the whatever price you are willing to send me."

He offered a gentle side-smile. "I will be the judge of that."

A vampire even more stubborn than her! Why couldn't he just drink from her if he was so adamant on giving her money? Didn't vampires, like, breathe blood? Unless... Her mouth dried, and her cheeks heated a shade darker. Did she... smell bad? But that couldn't be; she'd been surrounded by the blow of AC throughout her ride here, then in this house. She showered before she came here, using her favourite honeysuckle shower gel and coconut-scented shampoo. Her clothes were even crispy-dry and wafted of clean laundry. So then what was his deal? He was one odd vampire.

"Let's make a deal," she began instead. "If you drink from me, I'll accept your money. See? I, too, can be charitable."

His lips twitched a little at her words. But, "That will not happen," he voiced ever so serenely. "I offer you my aid with no payment in return, it is now up to you to either accept or decline it."

She sighed, taking a moment to process his words. In silence, she pondered. Except, she didn't ponder anything. Her mind was blank, and no thought was able to drift through it. "I," she said, staring at him and tapping her foot in slight agitation. "I... I..." She sighed. "I decline." _What!_ her inner voice shouted. She ignored it.

Smiling, she gave a faint bow of her head. "Thank you so much for your mercy and kindness, but I think it is time I take my leave." _No, no, no, no, no._

He gave a brief smile of his own, but said nothing in return. She turned, doing her best to ignore her inner voice that suddenly decided to make itself known. She smiled at the female vampire, received a Oh, well sigh in return, and walked out of the room, while all the while feeling a pair of eyes on her back.

As she made her way to the door, a male draped with a black coat bypassed her. She opened the door and exited.

_Go back, go back, go back! You idiot! What if this was your only shot at success? What if you won't be able to get money after this?_

Mila slowly licked her lips, starting to pay attention to her inner thoughts. The Texas night breeze gently blew against her form, and before her was a vast entry with dozens of parked sedans and luxuries cars.

He offered her money. Freely.

She stopped in her tracks. Did she just make a huge mistake?

 _Yes!_ Inner Mila cried out. _Go back!_

Could she? Go back, that is? Would his offer still stand?

She suddenly released a whiny noise. Oh, this was going to be embarrassing. _Hey, sorry to barge in like this. Again. But I totally need that money now. Thanks._ Ugh. Idiot Mila, she smacked herself on the forehead.

But she had to accept it, didn't she? Hell, she was going to get fang marks on her body for her mother, so what was accepting money that was offered freely to her? Desperate calls, desperate measures. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her mother. She could cry about it later, but right now, she had to go back inside. If he refused, she would find a way to force him to watch her crappy ballet moves, then he'd have no other choice but to reconsider.

Making up her mind, she turned on her heels and began to retrace back her steps. Perhaps she could even—

A sudden explosion sound erupted in the area, and she saw blazing fire emerge from the house before her body was brutally thrust backwards, causing her to fly a few metres away and land on the hard asphalt head-first.

_Smack!_

A broken breath barely surfaced to her throat before her world went pitch black.


	2. Chapter Two

Crimson Midnight

Chapter Two

Worlds of both light and dark saluted Mila as she slipped in and out of consciousness. In the dark, she felt nothing, saw nothing, knew nothing. In the light, her eyes groggily parted, breath still burning in her lungs, and she felt the gradual rise of the waves of pain wash over her. Amidst the constant brush of the waves, the sensation of arms gently hefting her up registered in her mind, but she couldn't stay awake long enough to know for sure; her lids, with heaviness, dropped shut.

If she was able to choose, she would've chosen the world of darkness, wishing to no more than anything not be able to slip back to the world where pain still upheld its power. But the choice was not hers—her eyes reopened anew.

It was dark—and blurry. What she mused as twinkling stars adorned the black, velvety sky, and what she concluded as a pipe-sized nail being hammered into her brain, once more greeted her senses. She released a weak cry of agony. It didn't help when her body felt like it was set on fire. She burned everywhere. And oh, Lord, her _ears_. They rang heavily.

The only solace she got from this world was the coldness emanating from an object that held her close. She struggled to snuggle closer to it. One inch of a move, and her body erupted in streams of pain, causing her to cry aloud this time. The stabs of agony also managed to snap her into alertness, and what she witnessed was complete mayhem.

What in the world was happening?

There was fire, smoke, and more fire. There were bodies being dragged out of massive boulders, dust and debris shrouding them. People hobbled, their feet skidding across the ground, as others aided them in their walk away from the obliterated house. Moans and groans of pain echoed across the area, and blood—oh, God, so much blood—coated faces, clothes, the ground and crumbled walls.

She bypassed beings missing an arm, a limb, sometimes both, and even certain organs, their backs or fronts open for inspection. She tried to scream, but no sound emerged.

 _Wait_ , she suddenly stilled in her frenzy. _Bypassed_?

How was she even walking when... Her face gradually lifted, and she spotted a strong pallid jaw with specks of blood and dust on it. Then the familiar cropped brown hair. And then the _very_ familiar silvery-blues. She gasped. She was being carried! By that...that vampire! Why was he even—

Her eyes incidentally landed on her own lower body and—

She nearly vomited.

Her leg.

Oh, God. Her leg.

A huge glass shard had pierced her thigh and its sharp edge was sticking out from the other side.

"Oh m-my God," she croaked out, very close to losing her consciousness again. "Oh my God, I'm dying."

"No," the familiar charming voice resonated from above her head. "You are not."

"Yes! Yes, I am. Look at that!" Blood, so much of it, oozed out of her open wound and dripped, dripped, dripped down her bare leg and to her boots. She left a trail of crimson in her wake.

Wishing to soothe it, she reached out, and slowly, gently, pressed her fingertips on the wound.

"I wouldn't do that," offered the vampire. Too late.

Biggest. Mistake. Ever.

Sharp pain, like thousands of needles stabbing into her skin, erupted in her wound, spreading like fire to the rest of her leg and until her very toes. She jolted in his arms, releasing a cry, which, in return, caused the glass in her thigh to move. Now she screamed, climbing up the vampire and wrapping an arm around his neck. With the other she helplessly pressed it down on her wounded thigh, undoubtedly making it much worse.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!" She dug her nails into his shoulder as hot tears welled up in her eyes. "Make it stop! Please, make it stop!" Profanities involving the names of certain pastries filed out of her mouth.

"Rest, human." A hand came around her nape and squeezed, cutting off the oxygen to her brain. " _I'll make it better_."

A soft whimper was the last thing she released before her vision went black. She slumped down on his shoulder.

_Blissful darkness... A place of nonexistence... Sweet, sweet oblivion.... Floating, floating..._

"—ind about her mothe—"

"—Yes, Sheriff—"

"—feed on her, Godr—"

"—no, Eric, I'm well—"

"—need it. Drink, I'll take care of the re—"

_Scorching flames... Hell of the darkest kind... Pain... So much of it... Too much of it... Too much... ToomuchToomuchToomuch—!_

With a shrill, Mila sprang awake, her hand shooting forth to grab the area that was causing her so much torment. Only, she couldn't reach it. Why— Why could she n—

Panicked, she swept her gaze around her. Hands. They were on her, holding her down.

"Godric, she woke up. We need to remove it fast before she can do any more damage," a familiar female voice resonated from above her. She recognized it—Isabel.

Godric? Who was Godric? Eyes still scanning, she spotted the male vampire standing at the foot of the bed. He was the only one in the room with Isabel. _Godric_ , she exhaled with relief. _Sweet, sweet, wonderful Godric_. _He'll make it better. He said so himself._

"It shall be extracted," was his final say, and he, with calm precision, wrapped his fingers around her ankle, slightly bending her leg at the knee. ‘’I will do it.’’

"N-No, no, no!" Mila blubbered out, putting her palm up in attempts to push him away. She couldn't even reach him. "Godric! Godric, please!" _The pain, oh, the pain!_

"She's lost too much blood," Isabel said, her hands grabbing her arms and pressing them down to her chest. She was strong, too strong, and no matter how hard Mila struggled, she couldn't quite escape her tight clasp. "Removing the shard will only worsen it. She needs vampire blood."

"Vampire what now?" Mila croaked out, eyes wide. Then she began to shake her head violently, her hair rustling against the pillow. "No, wait, wait. I don't want to become a vampire. I d-don't want to die," she sobbed out, tears now freely streaming down her hot cheeks. Oh, God. Oh, G-God. How did she end up in this mess? She began struggling harder against the female's grip, her waist starting to lift up from the mattress. "Let...me...go! Please, just leave me to my misery!"

Only a sigh greeted her demand. "Godric."

"Leave." The male vampire—Godric's—pacific blues came to rest on Mila's face. "Tend to the wounded; make sure they're befittingly accommodated. I will take care of her."

"You haven't even fed, Godric, much less drank Tru Blood. Replenish, I will see that she and the others are perfectly accommodated."

A slight stubborn purse of his lips as he lifted his eyes to his comrade. "I will be fine, Isabel. Now go." His calm yet frigid tone left no room for further arguments. With a sigh, Isabel gazed down at her and patted her cheek. "Remember: vampires are very good with speed." To him, she said, "I'll see that everyone is alive and well. Again. I will also order you a few bottles of Tru Blood, the ones in the fridge are not enough."

Godric gave a faint nod, and tilted his face sideways as he listened more than watched his companion depart. Once the door clicked shut, he at last focused on her.

Chest rapidly rising up and down, she blinked up at him. Then, gulping, she whispered, "I don't wish death."

He closed the distance between them, pale hand travelling up to the glass shard, and Mila whimpered anew. "I know."

"I... I don't know what happened. I was leaving and then I stopped and then...then I saw fire."

"It doesn't matter now; you were unfortunate to have been caught up in all of this, but fortunate enough to survive. You will not die." His gravitating eyes bored down on her. "I will give you my...blood." He sounded like he'd rather claw out his eyes and eat them than say those words. "It will not turn you into a vampire, but it will heal you."

Mila swallowed hard, and unblinkingly stared at him.

"Are you ready, human?" he asked.

She stilled, and then presented him her most convincing smile. "M-Maybe we should take a rain che—"

He didn't wait for her to finish, rather used her distraction to, with super-speed, thrust the glass shard out of her thigh and toss it somewhere behind him. Tissues tore; blood instantly gushed out, and so did her throat-scratching scream.

He pressed his broad palm down on her wound, temporarily closing it, and—

Mila gasped in both agony and awe.

His fangs emerged and, with a vicious, predatory expression so unlike his calm, subdued one, he bit down on his other palm. The sound of teeth piercing through skin resounded, and he extended his bleeding palm to her.

"Drink," he issued with throaty darkness that momentarily staggered her. Dark crimson coated his once pink lips, the thick liquid trickling down to his chin. If possible, she could've watched this image of him forever, but she instead embedded it in her memory to remember throughout her years. _Just because_.

More so, something about his current savageness caused her to wet her own lips, and she reached out for his palm with trembling hands.

He watched as she clasped it and brought it closer to her mouth. Shutting her lids, she darted out her pink tongue and slowly, cautiously, licked his open wound.

One taste, that's all it took. Her eyes snapped open in sheer rapture and, with raving hunger unknown to her, she enclosed her lips around it, the misery of her thigh and head forgotten. Everything forgotten. The whole world dissipated, leaving only his ravishing taste.

She moaned, swallowing the rich and cool decadence of his blood down her throat. Her mouth and tongue tingled, her teeth thrummed, her throat vibrated, and her belly quivered in utter delight. Nothing had ever tasted this exquisite. This... _powerful_. It washed over her, branding her, consuming her. She felt it in the marrow of her bones, in her every cell. She sparkled to life. Such _ancient_ power stormed through her veins, she could have been revived a thousand times over and it still would never diminish.

She felt vibrant, strong, more alive than ever, and she only wanted... _more_.

"More," she sighed out, sitting upright and throwing her legs over the edge of the mattress.

"That is enough," Godric said, a peculiar tightness to his tone.

Enough? No. Never. She wasn't done yet, wasn't sated. She greedily tugged at his arm, drawing him closer to her. To keep him firmly locked in place, she parted her legs and squeezed at his hips with her knees. She felt his entire body stiffen, and then came the low growl. It was deeper than a bear's and far fiercer than a wolf's.

Not minding his very clear warning, she fluttered her lashes shut and licked, licked, l _iii_ cked at his palm. Suddenly his fingers moved, and she felt them pinch the underside of her bloody chin, tilting it up. "I said enough."

Mila parted her lashes, her shimmering pools staring forth at him. She swallowed when she spotted his deadly fangs gleaming behind his scowling upper lip. Around his eyes, the pinkness had increased, and his sharp blues bore the bestial aggressiveness as the rest of his face. She didn't know whether to be enthralled by it or be in fear of it.

"But I wasn't done." She pouted. "You taste so good. Gimme."

His hand fell away from her face, and she suddenly mourned his touch, shocking herself.

He retracted his fangs. "Rest, human—"

"Mila," she interrupted him, and he slowly blinked at her. "It's Mila, not human. I am human, yes, but with a name. Mila."

Those blood-red lips curved into a faint side-smile. "Rest, Ms. Ivanovna—"G _rrr_ , frustrating vampire"—and consider yourself a guest in Hotel Carmilla. Your safety here is paramount."

Hotel Carmilla? It was the first she was hearing of it. But then again, she didn't squander her time looking up hotels. She nodded, noticing her senses calming down from the high that came with his blood. Then stormed in the exhaustion, completely knocking her over. Hands caught her at the shoulders before she could kiss the ground hello, and she barely muddled out a, "Thank...you for...everything, _Mr_...?"

He tilted his face to the side, staring down at her. "Godric."

She arched a brow. "You are...Godric Godric?"

Her humour—or rather, lack of it—was lost on the vampire, as he said nothing. Instead, when her lids threatened to flutter shut, he eased her back down on the bed. Soft pillows met her head, and she deeply sighed, rolling to her side. Allowing her lids to drift shut finally, she nuzzled her face into the pillows. _Sweet heaven._

Those familiar hands began to retreat, and she sleepily reached out for them. Her searching fingers brushed across a soft material, and she clumsily grasped it, towing it closer to her.

It remained in her grasp for a short while before it started to slip back. She released a small sound of disapproval into her pillow, pulling it back to her again.

"No go," she drowsily insisted under her breath. A few seconds passed in hesitant silence, and when it didn't retreat, she finally fell into a blissful sleep.

XXX

Releasing a snorty-like sound, Mila awoke, her eyes popping open. Squeezing them shut once, twice, she perked her head up from the position she lay on her stomach. Her curls fell in disarray around her face, and she groggily gazed about her.

Dark silky sheets, even a darker room, greeted her sight.

She was in a luxurious suite and rested in a king-sized bed. The bedroom was spacious, and in the dimness of the chamber—which she oddly saw right through—she made out sitting sofas, tall lamps, a fifty-two-inch plasma TV mounted on the wall, and curving glass tables.

Her brows knitted together. "What the hell," she drawled, her voice a whisper. This wasn't her room, and this most certainly wasn't her bed. Where in God's name was she?

As soon as the question crossed her mind, the past events one by one saluted her, and she exhaled in relief, resting her face on the mattress. Her deal. The explosion. Hotel Carmilla. Godric. His blood. _Oh, his blood_ , she moaned internally, recalling the taste.

But...where was he now? There was nobody else in the room with her.

Lifting her head, she gazed at the large wooden double-doors. They were closed, giving her privacy. Mayhap he was on the other side, waiting for her to emerge?

Suddenly eager to see him—an urge that bombarded her—she hopped up—and with her came the entire bed.

The silky bedsheet, blanket, and something in her hand, stuck to her due to the dried blood, and she literally had to forcefully tug them off, grimacing as she did so. But the material in her hand caused her to pause, and she tilted her face to the side to examine it in the dimness.

After a moment, her eyes widened. She recognized it. It was the sweatshirt belonging to the male vampire, Godric.

Why was it with her? She didn't have to ransack her brain for long.

 _No go_ , she recalled voicing before falling asleep, what she presumed to be a part of his sweatshirt in her hand. Had he left it with her so she could have an undisturbed, peaceful rest, since she was not letting go?

At the thought, a small smile tugged at her lips. How...sweet.

Still smiling, she placed it on the mattress and, before she could turn away, spotted a white shopping bag resting at the foot of the bed. Crouching, she lifted it to the bed and stole a peek inside.

White. That's all she saw.

Turning the bag upside down, she emptied the contents on the mattress. A white material with a couple of other things tumbled down.

Clothes. For whom? Her?

She gazed about, expecting someone to barge in and scream at her for touching what was theirs. No one did. But her eyes did land on the nightstand to her right, and on it rested her house keys, flip phone, a few of her dollar bills, and a note. She didn't remember having a note in any of her pockets.

Picking it up, she read over the letters.

_Make yourself feel at home, child. You are most welcome here, as our Sheriff confirms. In your room, you will find a bag of clothes and certain necessities. Also, refrain from leaving the hotel for a day; the havoc brewing between both human and vampire is yet to calm, it appears._

What did humans have to do with anything? Unless, most presumably, it was humans who obliterated the vampire nest. She wasn't new to the dislike pulsing between these two races; it was always showcased on the news. She didn't know how to feel about it, only knew there was a twinge of sadness in her chest.

Nobody had signed it, but she already had an idea on who it was. Well. The leaving part depended on her mother's situation; if she needed her daughter, nothing and no one would be able to stop her. She'd give her mother's doctor a call then.

Putting the note away, she focused on the materials before her. There was a long, strapless linen dress, a pair of white flats, and— Woah, okay. Certain necessities, as the vampire had mentioned. And by 'certain necessities' she clearly meant a matching white lacy bra and panties.

Her cheeks burned. _But they were pretty_.

Shaking her head, she made her way to the bathroom, dying to wash herself clean from all the blood and awfully strong stench. On her walk, she stumbled out of her boots—seriously, how did she sleep with all the blood and dirt _and_ her boots when she couldn’t even nap with her socks on?—and kicked them towards the nearest wall.

 _Thud, thud_.

When she entered the bathroom, her feet skidded to a stop. "Holy," she took slow steps forth, and turned about her, "Guacamole."

Never had she been in such a luxuries washroom, and sort of felt bad for what she was about to do in it.

Ebony tiles decorated the four walls, and on them were sparkly dots, alike stars, that caused the room to glimmer. To her left was a shower stall with glassed doors enclosing it, wide enough to fit a car in there, she mused. To her right was a massive mirror that stretched wide across the wall, practically covering it all. A porcelain sink with a flawlessly curved bowl rested atop a dark wooden cabinet that stretched as far as the mirror, and stood mounted on the wall rather than possessing planted feet on the tiled floor. On its surface was a thin sheet of glass that gave off the same sparkle as the walls did. There was an unopened package of toothbrush and toothpaste resting next to the sink, and she nearly dropped to her knees in gratitude. _Who knew vampires could be this hospitable_?

As she examined further, taking in the brilliantly white toilet and the stacks of folded towels on shelves, she concluded nothing could beat the bathtub and everything surrounding it. A few feet away from her were three marbled steps leading up to a white tub, four scuro marble columns encircling it Greek-style.

She went up those steps and gazed down, grinning happily. "Oh, you and I are going to have some fun before I leave. Hint: it'll involve a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolates." But now was not the time, unfortunately. It actually pained her when she descended the steps and padded away from it. _Soon_ , she promised herself.

Grabbing unopened shampoo bottles and bar soaps from the shelves, she entered the shower stall and stripped from her blood-streaked clothes. She threw them out and turned on the water. Oddly, she heard the water approaching, every trickling swash, before it gushed down on her body. Paying it no heed, she released a deep moan of satisfaction when the water turned from cold to hot, and began cleansing herself.

She had to soap herself four times before the scent of blood was completely gone from her skin—another oddity. And her hair thrice. Seriously, she wasn't this OCD about anything since her father's d— Oh, no, no. Not going there.

However, the thought, for a moment, caused her to open her palms and stare down at them. As water poured down on her naked form, an emotion she knew all too well threatened to burn the back of her eyes. Mila suddenly cleared her throat, blinking numerously, and chose instead to hum a random melody as she continued massaging her scalp. She ignored the little trembles in her hands.

Once done, she emerged from the shower, smelling like lemons and peaches. _Sigh_.

Once she was dressed and combed into her new outfit, she twirled in front of the mirror, loving how the hem of the dress fluttered against her calves. Smiling, she twirled again. And again. And again. All right, that was enough.

Emerging from the bathroom, she tidied up the room and threw the dirty sheets and her clothes to a corner, ready for the cleaners when they come. Brushing her palms in a job well done, she hopped onto the mattress, ready to give her mother's doctor a call. Only to halt when she saw the time.

02:37 a.m.

When she checked the date, she was surprised to see it was same night/morning. That meant she'd been asleep for around two hours. How odd when it felt like she'd snored away for ten.

Sighing, she flipped her cell phone closed. The call can wait. Grabbing her things from the nightstand, she went out of the room, suddenly intent on facing a certain vampire.

To her wildly thudding heart's disappointment, she didn't find Godric waiting for her on the other side. Actually, she found no one.

She was in a spacious—nonetheless luxurious, more so from her chamber—sitting room, and slowly turned about whilst inching towards the centre of the space. Her feet accidently skidded down, and she nearly lost her balance. Glancing down, she saw the two low steps looping around the middle area where plush sitting sofas resided. Two large jade-coloured marble columns rose to one end of the loop and two to the other, where she bypassed.

In the middle, the sitting sofas were arranged in comfortable positions, and before them was a massive yet cold fireplace. Dark carpets with tribal layouts layered the marbled floor, and a glass table stood in the centre, the remote control to the TV mounted above the fireplace resting on it. She turned, and saw a short winding stairway arching up to a second floor, right behind the sofas and right in the middle of the four columns.

It lead to dark-wooden double doors. Two Chinese gongs stood to either side of the barrier, but that was about it. There were no other chambers or entrances. Below the steps, to its right, was another closed door. Bronze artefacts of multicultural origins hung and stood proudly from and against the walls, and some took their place next to the plush sofas. She even spotted a few good oil paintings of places she'd never been in or seen.

It was...beautiful. Exquisite, even.

Clearing her throat, she called out, "Hello?"

No response.

"Is anybody here?"

Silence.

Licking her lips, she made her way to the door below the stairs. Giving it three light knocks, she entered, poking her head in. "Godric? Isabel?"

It was a windowless room with dark-wooden office desks, cabinets, and black leather sofas. It also had a black and red design to it, with the walls being crimson and the floor being ebony tiled. Nobody was in there but the lights were on.

Turning them off, she shut the door with a soft click. Ascending the steps, she gave the double-doors three taps. Nothing. Turning the knob, she opened the door. Moonlight instantly bathed her, and the night sky adorned with twinkling stars and wispy clouds greeted her sight.

Struck with wonder, she took a step into the chamber. It was spacious, and grandly so. The room had a domed ceiling, the centre engraved with a big golden sun that had its edgy flames stretching towards spherical points, and to her front, covering the entirety of the wall, were wide windows, all opened and leading to a balcony overviewing the bustling city below. Soft milky-white curtains rose as a gentle breeze blew into the room, and she shuddered.

To her right was a king-sized bed possessing white sheets and numerous pillows. The bed was made, all neat and tidy. On the floor, between the bed and the open windows, was a sitting space littered with wide sitting cushions, and all surrounded a small wooden table. But unlike other rooms, this one didn't have the famous red-and-black design; it had more brighter colours. The walls, the dome, both were a beautiful shade of gold. Even the floor was fully carpeted, and felt soft underneath her feet.

If the sun ever graced this room with its rays, she thought, it'd illuminate it brilliantly; every shadowed corner would shine. But something about this chamber evoked a familiar sensation within her chest, and it was the same feeling she got when in the previous vampire nest.

It was the sensation of peace. Harmony. Tranquillity.

Was she perchance in...Godric's suite? The thought made her feel all excited and naughty, as if she was breaking a rule by being in here, having a sneak on a part of him she wasn't supposed to be witnessing.

Recalling her mission, she let out a, "Hello?"

Only silence and the gentle whisper of the wind greeted her.

Releasing a loud sigh, she turned, closing the door behind her. Where was everyone? Walking down the steps, she swept her gaze over the sitting space. There must be a way out of this place, right? She didn't have to look long; she spotted wooden double-doors in the farthest corner, a few feet away from the fireplace and behind the two columns, almost shadowed by them. Jogging up to the doors, she parted them wide and stepped out to a long corridor.

Clocking the elevator at the end of the hallway, she made her way to it and pressed the Down button. From the third floor, it rose to the fourth...fifth...seventh...ninth...tenth— _ding!_

The doors parted and she stepped in, lifting her finger to press a floor—only to still for two reasons. One, she didn't know where Godric or Isabel was, and two, the sudden exotic, mouth-watering, soul-shattering, life-giving scent of fries and cheese-burgers, grilled steak and spiced-chicken, and hot, fresh-out-of-the-oven raspberry pies, bombarded her nostrils, causing her to grab her stomach and moan out loud.

She couldn't help it. One word: Yum. No, no. Two words: Need. Now.

Her lashes fluttered shut as her stomach rumbled loudly. She was so, _so_ hungry. She remembered she only had breakfast, the other meals of the day forgotten due to her queasiness at meeting vampires. Licking her lips and then biting down on them, she pressed the button to the lobby. That's where they all were, the lovers of her stomach.

She distinguished each scent from one another, and actually knew how long it took to cook them—half an hour, an hour and a half, an hour—and how long they've remained on this elevator. Six minutes. This was extremely weird, if not borderline freaky. How did she know these things? More so, hear things to the minutest detail, see things in absolute vision, all the way to the dust resting on them, when nothing of this kind has ever happened to her?

What was happening? What was the matter with h— A loud gasp escaped her as realization dawned, and Mila felt her stomach drop to the soles of her feet.

Vampire blood. That must be it. She'd drunk Godric's blood. He said it'd merely heal her. And she was, to miraculous extents; she saw the results in the shower, and it left her in absolute shock. Her skin was flawless, scar-less; it was as though she never nearly lost her leg.

But this...this was something else. This was _otherworldly_. It was only supposed to heal her, but what if it was doing more than that? What if it was...transforming her into...into a _vampire_?

She gasped even louder at that thought. Enhanced hearing, enhanced vision, these could very well be the tell-tale signs of evolvement. Of becoming...a creature of blood.

"A vampire," she voiced aloud, and grabbed her head in rising panic, her phone and keys pressed against her temple. Oh, no, no, no. She didn't want to become a vampire, didn't desire to be death incarnate. What about her mother? Her friends and co-workers? The sun? Her life? _All the good food_?

Pacing around the small space, she pondered. Maybe she was overreacting, maybe this wasn’t the case. Maybe this was a temporary thing. But what did she know? It was the first time she drank from a vampire, first time found herself in their midst. She didn't know shit! How foolish of her, taking a vampire at his word.

Feeling the heat of self-hate wash over her, she punched the mirror of the elevator—and broke it into pieces. Jumping back in utter surprise and horror, she covered her mouth with her hands. Okay, she did not expect _that_.

"Oh my God," she breathed out, eyes wide. "What did I just do?"

Lowering her hands, she gazed down at them. Her knuckle was bleeding, aching, but after a moment, the ache faded. Hastily wiping the blood away with the palm of her other hand, she gazed down again. No cuts. Nothing.

Enhanced strength...enhanced healing.

A shaky breath ghosted past her lips, and Mila felt her heart pick up a thunderous beat. "I'm transforming, aren’t I?" At her own words, instead of crying—which she really wanted to do currently—she felt hot anger grip at her chest, and tightly clenched her teeth.

Godric—he'd lied to her. Lied! Oh, she was going to kill him! Tasty blood, my butt. She was going to dance in it!

However, as she leaned against the space where the mirror should've occupied, wishing she calm down, she felt the slender fingers of the emotion she knew all too well and despised, slither up from the back of her neck and seize her by the throat. _Fear_.

She was petrified.

Scared at the indubitable prospect of her immediate and inevitable transformation. The powerful blood of the vampire was conquering her cells, winning the battle against her feeble human body.

She exhaled from her mouth, and closed her eyes. How wonderful of her to orchestrate her own demise. Her heart lurched in her chest, causing it pain.

As the elevator descended to the ground floor, images of her slaughtering innocent humans suddenly flashed by her eyes, further feeding the flames of her panic.

She saw the sharp, gleaming fangs she possessed, saw the mouthful of blood drip down her chin and neck. Saw the look in her own eyes, all wicked and vampiric. No trace of humanity. No trace of her. _Murderer_.

Bile formed in her throat, making breathing impossible. She gulped loudly.

 _Calm. Calm, Mila._ _You need to breathe_.

With one quick reflex, she opened her mouth and gulped in a fistful of air. Her head spun for a moment but it was enough motivation for her to keep up the act. One, two, she inhaled, exhaled. Inhaled...exhaled.

Slowly, her heart calmed and her consciousness cleared.

As the elevator came to a stop, she quickly—guiltily—kicked the glass shards to a corner, cleaning up the space. Once the elevator doors began to open to the lobby, Mila pushed away from the wall, the horrendous images still having trouble taking their immediate leave.

As though in a trance, she stalked out of the elevator. She heard her heart thumping in her ears with each step she took. When her gaze landed on the wide exit before her, she hastened towards it, not slowing down. _Have to leave; have to escape from this nightmare. I want to go home._

A male hotel employee, clad in a speckless black uniform, stepped into her path, hands clasped together and head slightly bowed down.

''Miss Ivanovna?'' he voiced.

She didn't slow down, only offered a quick glance at him before fastening her gaze on the doors again.

He fell into pace beside her and formed a short smile, outstretching a hand toward some enclosed sitting lounge. ''Please, follow me. Your presence has been requested.''

She didn’t care.

''Ma'am?''

''Just...give me a,'' she clasped the enormous golden handles to the glassed doors, and pushed them open, ''Moment.''

She broke into the breezy Texan night, and it enveloped her figure, the whispers of the wind caressing her forearms and neck.

''Ma'am? Miss Ivanovna, wait! The Sher—'' the employee called out, but she blocked him out.

 _Home. Soon_.

Paying nobody any heed, she increased her pace as she went down the three wide, marbled steps. The protests of the male died out in the ever-increasing distance between them. As she rounded the corner to the main street and its numerous traffic lights to her right, she slowed down her quick pads, and instead exhaled through her mouth.

When she spotted a yellow cab, she instantly stretched out her arm, yelling out a, ''Hey!''

When it blurred past her, completely ignoring her, Mila brought her arm down, her palm loudly smacking her thigh. Unbelievable. She was sure she made eye contact with the driver.

Sighing, she proceeded on. She couldn’t afford room for disappointment. Time was of great value, especially when these vampires could be breathing down one’s neck before they could move an inch of a muscle. _Shivers_.

Shaking her head, she jogged further down the street. The more she increased her pace, the more the odd thought of what Godric’s reaction would be if he learned of her departure started to cloud her mind.

 _Jog, jog, jog_.

 _Would he deem it endearingly convenient to hunt her down in his vampiric way?_ she mused. _Was he a fan of hide-and-seek? Because she could totally hide her fist before it sought out his throat._ What a bastard! Also, why was she entertaining irritable thoughts of him?

He wasn’t worthy of even an iota of her precious musings. He could go back to his coffin, for all she cared. God, what an idiot she was to trust him!

Idiot, idiot, idiot!

The accursed tears began to burn the backs of her eyes, and she sniffed loudly, wiping at her face. A pathetic sound escaped her trembling chin, and she allowed the tears to spill free. She couldn’t help it.

She must be a sight to whoever’s passing by as she completely shielded her face with her hands and cried down the street. Pressure settled around her waist.

 _Hey, mama, guess what? You’re not dying alone_.

At that, the emotions within her burst, and she wept harder, unaware of her weight lifting slightly off ground.

When next she pried her eyes open, she was several feet above, the blow of the wind unrelenting against her form. Her bewildered eyes and stuttering mind failed to gauge in the reality of her situation, because for a moment, she thought, maybe she was tripping and her life was flashing by before eyes.

‘’Oh!’’ she released lamely when reason at last dawned on her. She _was_ mid-air, and she was going to scream. Loud.

And so she did.

The city camped below her seemed terribly far now, and she struggled against the pale but defined arm snaked around her waist, meshing her figure closer against a sturdy chest. ‘’Who—What—!’’

Shooting a glance backwards, she made out a strong pallid jawline and silvery-blues, both features she recognized all too well.

‘’You!’’ she exclaimed, and then burst into fresh tears. ‘’Put me down!’’

‘’You would not like that, human,’’ Godric reasoned, flying up the side of the hotel.

‘’No, you don’t understand. I don’t like heights, I don’t like heights, I… I feel—!’’ Before hyperventilation racked her entire form, her body smoothly glided down to an open balcony as he eased her to her feet.

Legs collapsing, she immediately reached for the railings and hugged them close. One, two, she attempted at evening her breath. Inh _aaa_ le. Exh _aaa_ le. One. Two. That’s…it. A smooth breeze swept past the open space, which she now realized was Godric’s suite, and filled her lungs briskly.

‘’Human—‘’ the vampire started softly, but she snapped her gaze at him and was pointing an accusing finger a second later.

‘’Don’t you _ever_ do that again!’’ Wiping at her tears, she realized her possessions were no longer in her hands. ‘’Oh, no!’’ She threw herself halfway over the railing, gawking a hundred metres down to the dark street. ‘’My phone!’’

How would she reach her mother now? How would she ascertain her safety?

Anger suddenly boiled inside her, and her clasp on the railing tightened, causing her knuckles to leech out of colour. She has had enough!

Something befell her, something akin to primal need where it demanded she sink whatever she could to whomever she could. Before she could correct herself, determination seeped from her and she covered the inches separating them, ready to fight him for her freedom.

‘’Human—’’ Godric voiced ever so calmly.

‘’It’s Mila!’’ she retorted with fervour. ‘’And I want my phone, and I am going to go get it, and then I’m going home!’’

This close to him, she could suddenly smell the wild and skin-searing scent of him, ancient and utterly ambrosial, and it bombarded her senses. She couldn’t stop the sudden rhythmic beating of her heart nor the salivating of her mouth.

He gently lowered his lids to the ground, his expression unreadable and impassive. ‘’You threaten your wellbeing and the wellbeing of others by stepping past the safe premises offered to you in this hotel. I cannot have the attack pursue you to your home before the investigation is over. My _blood_ swims in your veins, human. You are liable more than you presume.’’

Brows knitting, she regarded him in silence. He sported a more revealing attire this time, his pale arms and the tattoos inking his biceps free for all to examine. Below his light linen shirt, another tattoo, more prominent than the others, slid across his sinewy chest alike a tribal necklace and it only added to the lethality swimming under the calm demeanour he tended to keep. Realizing where she was concentrating, she abruptly blinked away. Distracting male!

 _Focus, Mila._ She chastised herself. _And for the love of God, demand answers and leave!_

‘’Why did you lie to me? Why would you even lie to me?’’ she asked instead. ‘’I see things in a way I’ve never done before, hear things, _feel_ things. And I’m strong. Well, stronger. I broke a mirror in the elevator!’’ Her face paled at her own admittance, and she quickened to correct herself. ‘’I mean, it fell. By itself. I definitely did not lose my temper, why would I?’’

Ignoring her last rebuttal, he faced the city below, his short-cropped strands lightly wavering in the wind against his forehead. ‘’At my age, speaking falsely is but an inane act. They are mere symptoms, and they shall soon pass. Everything shall soon pass,’’ he finished quietly, more to himself than her. Paying him no heed, she found herself gasping.

‘’Wait. I’m not turning?’’ The excitement was evident in her speech. ‘’I’m not going to be a creature of death?’’

Still faced away from her. ‘’No.’’

She wanted to hug something, anything, even fist-pump the air, but she held herself and instead loudly sighed, revelling at the new information. There was no need to panic now. But she had to go and recuperate. Form a new plan B, and be there when her mother awoke in the morning. She would ask for her. She always asked for her.

‘’Now that that is settled.’’ With a light clap, she twirled, and made to depart—only to be stalled by a hand to her forearm. She narrowed her eyes, and then regarded him over her shoulder.

‘’Let go, vampire.’’

Godric didn’t. Instead, he tightened his hold ever so slightly. ‘’It is best to stay.’’

Mila understood the warning underlying his speech. He didn’t have to speak it; the atmosphere about him spoke loudly enough about what it clearly entailed: _step outside and I won’t be merciful again._

Well. She didn’t really give a rat’s ass about his mercy, now did she. Eyes steeled, she ran her tongue over her teeth, and for the briefest second, she thought she saw his gaze flicker to the movement before flickering back to her eyes. ‘’My mother needs me. Actually, I need her. And you can’t stop me. Now, let go!’’

Mila stomped forward—only to be halted. Again. Ugh!

The anger within her flared, and, everything be damned, but this vampire was about to get a taste of his own medicine.

‘’Human—‘’

 _More gasoline to her fire_. Her claws officially came out.

With a sharp turn, Mila bared her mouth—and bit him. Right in the neck.

Her teeth were not sharp enough to penetrate skin, but were sharp enough to cause a sting. And she knew he felt it, because, the once calm and collected vampire above her, now gasped. Actually gasped in horror at her action.

Then, everything happened so fast. One moment, she was tasting his skin, and the next, predatory fingers snaked around her tender throat, ready to rip it open, as she was unceremoniously flattened against a stony wall.

The hand squeezed at her, and breath escaped her lungs. ‘’You _dare_ ,’’ rumbled the dark timbre of his voice, and she didn’t know why, but her body shamelessly reacted, and Mila tightly shut her eyes as a delightful shudder racked her form.

Prying them open with much needed strength, she bared her teeth at him. ‘’There is more where that came from. And if you, for even a single moment, think you can keep me here against my will, you are in for a rude awakening. I don’t care for the others that I will be endangering. I don’t care for myself. What I do care about is being next to my loved one once she awakens, and soothing away her pains. Do you understand?’’


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat? Three chapters in one go? I just had to. I have no patience. So, enjoy, I guess.

Crimson Midnight

Chapter Three

_‘’Do you understand?’’_

Echoing relentlessly in her mind, those words brought forth a reminiscence long buried in the darkest depths of her. Memories that cast the worst of the worst monsters upon her heart.

_No, no, don’t want to remember._

The tableau before her altered, the fingers around her neck dispersing as a warm, woollen scarf took their place. It was mid-December, the fall of snow scarce but the brusqueness of the weather ever persistent. With Christmas just around the corner, twinkling lights of bright red, yellow, green and blue adorned the streets in festive spirit, and the night-sky, littered with as equally merry stars, tempered the fury of the cold in Washington, D.C.

The scent of hot chocolate saturated the air as Mila and her father exited the small café at the end of Connecticut Avenue.

‘’Finish that, young lady, and hand me the list. Let’s see, let’s see,’’ her father mused, scanning the list she passed him. ‘’Would you look at that.’’ A warm chuckle. ‘’We actually managed to purchase everything without getting properly distracted. Now that, my _Ludmila_ , is what I call a day well spent. Do you know why?’’

Ludmila only smiled in acknowledgement.

Her father chucked her lightly under the chin. ‘’That’s right. We won’t have to hear your mother bicker of items amiss. Come, it’s getting pretty cold. Oh, I’m starving. I can’t wait to eat the dinner she’s prepared at home.’’

Feeling equally as famished, she followed her father to their car in the parking lot, the sidewalk capped in slippery ice. _Careful, don’t want to drop my favourite drink of the night_.

Grabbing hold of the shopping and grocery bags, she aided her father as he settled them in the trunk of the car. ‘’But do you really think them to be sub-humans as others tend to do?’’ she questioned, extending him one bag after the other.

Positioning them, he snorted at her words. ‘’I never said I think of them as sub-humans, merely that they be brought into a branch of our own government. That way, we can control them or pass laws regarding the safety of the population. That’s the fastest way for them to ‘Mainstream’ into our society, as they put it. Hey, it isn’t a hard concept to digest considering that we didn’t know of their existence about a few months ago.’’

‘’Yes, because…they’re _vampires_. They feed off us. They will always be an imminent threat, no?’’

Smiling at her over his shoulder, the smile that never failed to warm her heart, he tossed, ‘’You can’t perceive what you don’t know as a threat, my Ludmila. That merely feeds into the public fear. You have to be more open and understanding. Yes, they are vampires, and yes, as every fictional book and story entailed, they do favour human blood. However, they are intelligent. Now that, my dear, is what licenses them.’’

More bags. ‘’Yes, and that’s what makes them more lethal than anything.’’

‘’Not really. More lethal than anything in this world is truth. Maybe this is the journalist in me speaking, but it has to get out there somehow. The world can’t survive off propaganda. That’s not how history is made. Think of the African Americans of this country, the _Native_ Americans, they were once upon a time considered sub-humans themselves—until they fought free of their shackles and lodged their rights into the amendments. Do I think vampires as humans? No. Not in the typical sense we are. However, they are a different kind of human.’’

Quizzically, she regarded her father. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. ‘’Humaneness, is what makes us who we are. What is in here,’’ he tapped her chest, where her heart beat, ‘’is what makes us who we are. And it is not exclusive to just us. Don’t forget that.’’

Mila only laughed. ‘’And that’s why half the world hates you right now.’’ She loved him, loved his heart and his ideas. Loved that with every question she enquired, he only taught her more. She wanted to learn everything from him. Be more like him. ‘’But that’s why I’m proud to be your daughter.’’

Patting her cheek, he shut the trunk. ‘’Now, don’t go making me all teared up, pumpkin. It’s not Christmas yet.’’

‘’My, my, who do we have here?’’ Whistles erupted from behind him, and they both turned.

‘’Ludmila, get in the car,’’ her father’s clipped order resounded.

She didn’t.

A group of young men, dressed for the streets, approached him, hands in their pockets.

The one in the centre, covered in tattoos and piercings, spat at their feet. ‘’A fuckin’ fanglicker. Yeah, I see you on TV, you bloodsucking dirt-bag. You ain’t nothin’ but an apologist.’’

‘’Now, boys,’’ her father started, ‘’don’t go using words you don’t understand. Ludmila, car. Now.’’

‘’Yeah?’’ The thug in question sniffed, and then jerked out a .32 ACP from the pocket of his jacket. ‘’Now am I speaking in words _you_ understand?’’

The men around him cheered.

Mila gasped, the cup of hot chocolate jostling in her clasp. Her father might’ve heard her, because he straightened, stepping in front of her and shielding her as he put up his hands to showcase he meant no harm. ‘’All right, easy now. Nobody has to get hurt.’’

‘’I don’t take no orders from a fanglickin’ liberal, bitch. You ain’t nothing to me. What, are you even American? What’s that accent I hear, some Ukrainian Stalin-supportin’ bitch has come to our land, to disrupt our peace? How ‘bout you go back to where you came from? This ain’t no place for you to play with American politics.’’

‘’I’m an American citizen, and I merely want to go home. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’’

The barrel of the gun settled inches away from her father’s head, a finger on the trigger.

‘’Hey, hey, hey,’’ her father issued, still trying for a calm tone. ‘’Put that away before somebody gets hurt.’’

_I don’t want to remember. Please, anything but this. Anywhere but here._

Images distorted, and the woollen scarf stripped away, vampire fingers collapsing back into place.

Slowly but surely, her body was ushered in through the open balcony doors and onto the vacant bed. Every step cost her an excited breath, and every breath fed into the anticipation coiling in her lower belly. The vampire, the embodiment of absolute strength and wicked power, tilted his head to the side, regarding her in the quiet of the night.

‘’Do you wish to know what befalls a defying human?’’ _Yes. Yes, more than anything_.

The backs of her knees hit the bedpost, momentarily snagging her attention from him. She swallowed hard.

With the gracious anchoring of his wrist, he guided her to her back, softness immediately cocooning her as she flattened against the mattress. Biting her lip, she stretched under him like a feline, her back arching voluntarily.

‘’Answer me,’’ his soft voice, a startling contrast to his predacious expression, filled the space between them.

‘’ _Yes_ ,’’ she mewled, her legs falling open in invitation. ‘’ _Yes_ , _Godric_.’’

With an appreciative growl, he bowed low, tracing the length of her neck with the stubborn tip of his nose. He inhaled deeply, savoured completely. Blood soared wild and hot in her veins, her body reacting to every delicious inch of him. She needed him closer. With a whine, she bared more of herself to him.

Perfection settled between her legs, meshing them chest to chest, and fireworks went off in her head.

Yes. Ye _sss_!

Her world shifted anew, the pressure above her disappearing and leaving horrid emptiness in its wake.

No. N _ooo_!

_Come back! Don’t want to remember. Don’t want my heart to break._

The gleeful choirs of the men around him stilled as they registered what was about to take place. ‘’Hey, man,’’ one of them stepped forward, ‘’that’s enough, yeah? We ain’t gotta deal with some lowlife, yeah?’’

Mila bolted into action, covering her father as she shouted, ‘’Step away, or I will call the police!’’

‘’Ludmila, get back!’’

‘’Hey, shut your bitch!’’ And to his friend, ‘’Fuck off, man. If you scared, then run along. But I ain’t leavin’ without puttin’ at least somethin’ in this dirt-bag. Fuckin’ hate seein’ him on TV, preachin’ ‘bout what Americans need.’’

A shove against her body put her behind the protection of her father’s figure. ‘’Dad! Dad, please—‘’

‘’—leave my daughter alone. Let’s settle this between us. No one has to get hurt—‘’

‘’—somebody will get hurt, yeah? Maybe them fangbangers need some reminding who actually runs this country—‘’

‘’—put the gun down—‘’

‘’—Dad, please, let’s go home—‘’

‘’—man, come on! This is too far. We don’t kill people—‘’

‘’—I said fuck off—‘’

‘’—listen to your friend, you don’t want to do this—’’

‘’—what do you know about what I need? I don’t need no shit from you! _Do you understand_ —’’

The safety on the gun went off.

‘’—man! Man, shit, what the fuck! Stop!—‘’ Bodies suddenly moved, blurring past each other. Her father threw a punch. Howls of pain erupted. Everything happened fast, too fast, and between one heartbeat and the next, Ludmila’s world fell apart.

_She was going to be sick._

‘’Mila, get in the car!’’

_No, no, no._

‘’You son of a bitch!’’

‘’Ludmila!’’

_BANG!_

Abrupt nausea shooting up her throat startled Mila out of her sleep, and she, no matter her disorientation, hurriedly clambered to her feet and rushed to the washroom.

Too late.

Blood gushed out of her mouth and nose, splattering across the finely polished tiles to the entrance of the washroom. With another heave from her twisting stomach, she emptied the contents in her body.

Blood, so much of it, sullied her white shirt and shorts as she struggled to maintain her composure. Her conscience, cracked into a million splintered pieces, each bit digging sharply into her, ruled over her mind and thoughts, but the pain tearing her heart in two was what finally brought her to her knees as she released a wail of the most agonized.

Consumed with self-hatred, she cowered into herself and clenched her bloodied fists tightly. _It should’ve been her at the receiving end, not her father. She should’ve died, perished, even, not her father. She should’ve fought better. Harder. Stronger._

It’s because she failed to do so, her father paid the price. Because of her weakness, he was no longer with them. With her.

 _I hate you!_ she wailed at herself. _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!_

‘’Please.’’ A hoarse cry. ‘’I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to know anymore.’’

Not the way her father’s body jerked backwards as the gun fired. Not the way his warm blood coated her face and her cup of hot chocolate as he fell into her. Not the way she held him as closely and as desperately as she could as he breathed his last in the cold winter night. Not any of it.

 _Make it stop_.

Clutching at her aching head, Mila sobbed. She’d never felt pain in the way she did now. Her body scorched from the inside out, her skin flayed, her chest ripped open. She failed to stop the influx of emotions tearing her apart piece by wretched piece. The doors to her worst nightmares were let open, and she knew no way of shutting them.

She couldn’t bear it any longer.

Heaving loudly, she released another round of scalding tears _. I want to go home_. Then, _no_ , she thought. _Not home. I have no one waiting for me there. It is empty and desolate._

 _I want… I want…_ The sudden image of a pallid vampire with the most subdued and benign eyes ghosted past her mind.

Godric.

_Yes._

Somehow, someway, she knew she had to find him. In her heart of hearts, she knew he’d make everything better. She had to reach him. It would be the bravest thing she’d ever do.

Swallowing down the pain and tears, Mila pushed herself up, toppled over, and then pushed anew with more vigour. Finally—an eternity later—her booted feet supported her weight as she egged on across the room.

The room…she’d previously woken up from. Pausing in recognition, she gradually took in her whereabouts. The bed… the sheets… her own clothes, as she now glanced down, were identical in state to those ornamented before.

But… But how was that even…

Through the pounding in her head, Mila chanced a glance at the foot of the bed and, to her utter surprise, found the white bag neatly resting there. But she’d opened it, hadn’t she? She’d worn the clothes inside it, hadn’t she? She’d— She’d—

Massaging her temple, she recalled the events in perfect transition up until the point where reality morphed with fantasy, and Godric’s body stood poised over hers, his soft lips a whisper shy from her throat.

Mila groaned in immediate shame and humiliation; shame, because, no matter the blistering pain wreaking havoc within her, no matter the relentless pounding in her head and the acidic churning in her stomach, it was unequivocally and wholly inconceivable of the vampire to suddenly start seducing a stranger he’s never really met before. And humiliation, because, yes, despite his undeniable appeal, she’d brazenly dreamt of him in the most inappropriate of ways. A stranger she herself just met!

Mila groaned with ten different types of agony, and untangling the ordeal before her became too hard a task to see through.

Even if it were a dream, what could possibly explain the room and the white bag? Perhaps…

Clutching at her midriff to calm the tumultuous rise of another round fighting its way free, she shuffled closer to the bedpost and leaned forward to take hold of the white bag. With needed strength, she flipped it over, and the contents spilled onto the bed.

White dress. White undergarments. Her eyes fell on the nightstand. A white note.

Delirious. She must be hallucinating. This wasn’t right. Nothing felt right, not within her body, not outside. Stumbling away, she made way to the door. Have to find Godric. He’d make it better. He said so himself.

The room swam before her eyes, her balance almost lost. Palming the handle of the door, she pried it open, and for the life of her, it felt as though she were removing a boulder from her path.

With a distressed moan, she soldiered on, and, just like in her dream, the room before her, with its columns and artefacts and sitting sofas, greeted her sight. However, she paid them no heed. Couldn’t. Nothing mattered more than fixing what was ostensibly broken inside her.

A shiver racked her form, and her skin broke out in cold sweat. Her palms felt clammy, her heart raced in unparalleled speed, and her vision blurred yet once more.

‘’Oh my God,’’ a voice, Southern and feminine, came from somewhere around the room. ‘’Bill. Look.’’

Blinking numerously, Mila followed the sound of the voice. It came from the sitting area, but she couldn’t make out any faces. Only silhouettes. And that scared her.

‘’I’ve been hearing voices, but I didn’t know it was… Oh my God, are you all right?’’

Mila had the sudden urge to sob at the question, but found that that, too, required energy she did not possess. _I need help_ , she wished to voice. _I need Godric_.

‘’Of course,’’ came the hasty reply. ‘’I’ll call him right now.’’

_What?_

Did the woman hear her muses, or was this just another figment of her imagination? Mila didn’t know anymore. Once again, she didn’t care to know.

Another round of nausea and dizziness attacked her form, and she helplessly clutched at herself. There appeared to be no beginning or end to the torment, no beginning or end to her.

From the office below the stairs, resounded the sound of approaching footsteps. They were calm but firm. Soft but demanding. With a gentle whine, the door clicked open, and three forms emerged, the one in the centre beckoning her over the strongest.

A moment passed in silence before Mila realized who exactly stood before her. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t make out his face, because she could recognize his form anywhere. Godric. He was here.

 _Must reach him_.

Scavenging every iota of will left inside her, she lifted her hand in his direction. ‘’Why… Why would you do this to me?’’ Then, ‘’I don’t… feel… so… g…’’

Her eyes rolled behind her head as her legs gave out from below her and she crashed onto the marbled floor. Something hot and wet streamed down her eyes and nose, and hell of the foulest kind overtook her senses. As endless screams ensued in her head, her body lay ever motionless in the room.

‘’Godric, I don’t understand,’’ Isabel spoke, her cool hands clasping her feverish head. ‘’Why is she bleeding from her eyes and nose? What is the meaning of this? She’s still human, I can smell it.’’

‘’Godric…’’ A male voice. Rough. Deep. Angelic. ‘’Don’t tell me you…’’

A moment lagged on in absolute silence before Mila heard the voice her esurient ears were struggling to hear in forever—and it left her dejected more than anything ever did. In that moment, she wished he’d never spoken at all.

‘’She’s rejecting my blood.’’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I know its short, and if you're confused, don’t worry. I'm confused myself. So I'll let Godric answer all your questions in the next chapter. For every review this fic gets, Godric gets a sexy time. That’s a lie. We’re all about slow-burn in this house. Until next time *kisses*


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is isss, chapter 4! Enjoy!

Crimson Midnight

Chapter Four

‘’Nan Flanagan is set to arrive in the coming two days to collect our testaments,” spoke Isabel. “But before that, she states it’s crucial she clean up the mess left behind by the human bomber before human reporters get their hands on it and the Authority starts ringing her cell.”

“No doubt they’ve rung her by now,” his child, Eric, countered aloofly. He could sense from their link that he cared not about the entire ordeal but rather centred his attention on Godric, who sat ever estranged in the office of his suite. He did not meet his child’s imploring gaze—there was nothing to be said.

Dwelling with them in the room was the vampire Bill Compton and his human companion, Sookie Stackhouse.

‘’Your brother,’’ Isabel turned her attention to the human in question, “does he know anything regarding the suicide bomber?”

Sookie shallowly shrugged a shoulder, her arm secured around Bill’s as they stood by the desk. “My brother, as far as he knows, said the Fellowship of the Sun did not have plans involving any sort of bombing. Especially a vampire’s nest. It is likely that the hit they took after Godric’s kidnapping was what provoked them to act so.”

“The Authority will want a full report on the situation, and Godric’s position might even be questioned.”

“They wouldn’t dare.” Eric’s attention finally left Godric’s form. “He’s too valuable to them.”

“His value won’t be enough if they realize his kidnapping was of his own doing,” Isabel shot back. “He can fight back—which he must—if he wishes to keep his Area.”

Eric growled low, eyes turning a bit more feral. “You questioning your loyalty to him, Beaumont? It wasn’t that long ago you and Stan fought for his position in his absence.”

Clearing his throat, Bill said, “We’ll be outside if you need anything, Sheriff.” With that, the couple exited the room.

“Stan was a power-hungry idiot who couldn’t possibly plan for the future much less his own breakfast if asked. Don’t liken me to him. I only want what’s best for Godric. Right now, if we don’t come up with a good story, he might as well lose all power.”

“You would want that, wouldn’t you?”

“What troubles you, vampire? Is it my devotion to your maker or the fact that the human girl you fancy is prancing about with another vampire?”

Eric shot up from his seat, his growls echoing off the walls. “Darling, you don’t want to cross this line.”

“Try me, Northman.”

‘’Enough,’’ Godric interjected, quietening the two. Eric immediately sobered, slowly sinking back into his chair. He regarded Godric with undivided attention and devotion. “We will await Nan Flanagan’s arrival, and I will recount the events. There is nothing more to discuss.”

Isabel sighed. “If that is your verdict—“

“—it is.” Godric lifted his gaze to her, silencing any more queries. Isabel tipped her head in compliance.

“Yes, Sheriff.”

It wasn’t what was expectant of him, for the Sheriff rarely did what was expectant of vampires these days, but, to the surprise of his child and Isabel, Godric’s hand lifted to gently rest on his chest. For a long moment, his fingers faintly rubbed at where his heart would have beat if he were human.

“…Godric?”

His child could not feel the link he’d formed with the human sleeping in the other room, but he did sense a rippling change that was unlike his subdued one. With a gentle tilt of his head to the side, Godric listened past the closed doors and walls and into the guest bedroom—where the human suffered from dark and twisting sensations. From happiness to fear to joy to pleasure to regret and back to fear, they careened, until absolute horror and cold fright was what she finally awoke to.

It was an hour ago when he’d left her side and gone to take care of his own dishevelled state that he’d felt the first arms of the blood-link entwine within him. Now, it stormed in with cracked vengeance, feeding into him myriad emotions he had not felt in a very long time, and all the more brutal as each emotion preceded the other in ferocious haste, toppling over and causing mayhem.

“Godric, what is it?” Isabel inquired by his side, her brows knitting in the middle.

A sudden hollowed pain fired through the link and straight into his chest, and, if he were human, Godric mused that it would have brought him to his knees, as it mercilessly did the human. And then came an emotion that even his deadened heart flinched in aversion to, for whatever she felt failed in comparison to what now reigned heinous flames over her distressed form— _hate_. So much of it, there was simply no end to it. Black, pitless, it travelled, and Godric blinked in realization that it was directed at the human herself. If it were made actual flames, he would know himself to be ashes by now.

But it wasn’t merely that; there was something else. The link now rumbled and jostled unnervingly in him, at times appealing to him, at others repelling him. It called to him in desperation, wanting to remain, wanting to latch on, but then stormed away, as if not being able to fit its perfect puzzle piece with his. He almost felt…rejected. _Impossible_.

“What is it?” his child asked, rising from his seat and towering over his still seated form. “I can sense you are not yourself. Something troubles you. What is it?”

“Is it the girl?” Isabel questioned, her own head turning toward the closed door. “I can hear she has awoken.”

“What girl?” Eric, too, twisted his large form toward the door, listening to an erratic heartbeat a few walls behind. “Why is there a human in this suite?”

And then echoed the human’s unmistakable tormented wails.

“Isabel,” Godric voiced ever serenely. “Phone Dr. Ludwig. Inform her the Sherriff of Area 9 extends to her his cordial invitation and that her services are needed. Eric,” he uncurled from his seat, levelling with his child, “deliver her to me unharmed.”

“Yes, Godric,” his child conceded, though with a bit of a growl to his words.

“Of course. I will call him right now,” resounded Sookie Stackhouse’s soft tone from behind the closed door, and both Isabel and Eric snapped their attention at that. Godric sidestepped them and, curious, they followed him as he parted ajar the door and walked out.

The scent of tainted blood greeted his senses, followed by her ghastly sight. It appeared as though she’d stepped out of a bloody battlefield, the lone survivor, and knew not where to place herself. Once her eyes landed on Godric, only then did they swim with familiarity, and she made to reach for him, lifting her arm.

“Why would you do this to me? I don’t feel so…g…” The human collapsed to the marbled floor. Isabel was at her side a second later, cradling in her hands her delicate head. “Godric, I don’t understand. Why is she bleeding from her eyes and nose? What is the meaning of this? She is still human, I can smell it.”

In distorted waves, her pain made itself known to him through their link, and Godric could not deny the truth that now rested heavily over his shoulders.

“She’s rejecting my blood,” he voiced.

No one said anything for a long moment, as no one knew something of such nature could occur. Vampire blood _dominated_ human blood—that was absolute.

“But…” Isabel started only to falter.

“Is that even…possible?” Sookie Stackhouse tossed a silent but stumped look at Bill, who looked equally confused.

“Nobody can deny your sacred blood,” his child provided with a quiet snarl, as though offended in his maker’s place. “Especially a worthless _human donor_. Perhaps we should let her die by having you feed on her as planned. It will do you much good.”

“Eric,” Sookie chastised him in a hushed tone. He merely shrugged his broad shoulders.

Godric had to admit that, despite his age and the knowledge that came with it, he knew not how to assuage the ordeal set before him, for he never dealt with such anomaly before. But when pain, hazy though it still was, panged through the ever weakening link, the silver in his eyes steeled. Godric’s stance, for the first time in decades, altered from passive to aggressive, and the energy suddenly shifted in the room, indisputable ancient power blanketing over everyone.

“Eric,” he evenly said, and his child, needing no further encouragement, with a silent and subdued nod, sped out of the room in less than a heartbeat. Gaze locked on the human, he closed the distance between them, kneeling over her form. Then, with channelled gentleness that surprised even Isabel, he collected her in his robust arms.

With a soft moan, her head fell upon his shoulder, the tip of her nose caressing his throat. Then, all too quickly, she hissed, recoiling from his skin. “Too…cold,” she mewled in her misery. “On…fire…”

With her temperature alarmingly high, any cool touch would sting her, Godric knew, but they would have to lower it nonetheless. Turning on his heels, he made his way up the ascending staircase leading to his chamber, but a voice, soft and unsure, called out behind him, stopping him in his tracks. “Is she going to be okay?”

Sookie Stackhouse stood below the steps. “I hear her thoughts, but they are faint and distant, as if she’s underwater. The quiet of it almost resembles that of the vampires, with them having no brainwaves and the like. It’s as if she’s in the crosshairs between life and….death. I fear for her. Is there anything I can do?”

Godric gently blinked in her direction. It was Isabel that answered in his stead. “Dr. Ludwig will know what to do. She will help us as soon as Eric brings her here. If I’m not mistaken, she cured you too.”

“Yes, but a Maenad claw is an old tale. Do you think she’d know what to do with people in her situation? Has there been anyone in your vampire history that suffered such side-effects?”

Isabel sighed, lashes cast downwards. “Not any I know of.”

“I believe we will all have a role to play in her recovery, Miss Stackhouse,” Godric interjected. “But right now, rest is due upon us all.”

With an understanding nod, Sookie walked back, reaching for the outstretched hand of her vampire companion, who embraced her to his side upon contact. “Please let me know if you need anything,” she said with a faint smile. As Godric regarded her in benign silence, the couple exited the suite, gently clicking shut the door behind them.

A hoarse moan dragged his attention back to the pained human. As sweat beaded on her forehead, Godric listened close, catching the ever slowing beats of her heart.

* * *

_Two hours later,_

Godric wordlessly stood by the tub of cold water Dr. Ludwig was submerging the human in, the human who, despite her fading state not an hour ago, was fighting with all her might to escape her predicament. She screamed in such pain when the doctor managed to prop a leg in the tub that the link he shared with her sliced up his chest to his throat, leaving a phantom imprint of the horror felt.

By him stood Isabel, Eric lounging in the living space below his suite, and he met her eyes when another scream tore from the human’s throat.

“If we don’t get her in, she’s going to die,” Dr. Ludwig shot from over her shoulder.

“Push her in,” Isabel offered hopefully.

“I can’t. It needs to be slow, or the shock will take her life before the abnormality in her blood does.”

“Leave her. I’ll do it,” Godric said smoothly, garnering the attention of the two women in the room.

The doctor then snorted at his words, wiping at her forehead. “Well, then, be my guest, vampire.”

Isabel gazed at him, waiting for him to further explain as to why he’d decided so, but he merely ignored her, his eyes set on the shaking human by the tub. With a nod, Isabel ushered the doctor out of the bathroom.

“Could’ve offered sooner,” muttered the doctor as she exited.

Alone with the human, he stepped nearer to where she lay with her back to him, her arms hugging her midriff while her legs, to no end, struggled against the marbled flooring. Only her bruised whimpers echoed in the space between them.

Reaching her, he lowered himself, then slowly collected her in his arms. She fell into them as softly would a droplet of water.

“Don’t…hurt…me,” she whispered to him.

“I would not do that,” Godric said.

“Water…is…hot.”

“It merely feels so.”

Something he had not done in over a hundred years, he did so for her. Calming strokes, soothing waves, he sent through their link, and though weak, she responded.

Straightening a little, she palmed his face, the heat of her skin almost searing his flesh. Her closed eyes, now gently parted for him. He looked at her, before lifting a leg over the rim of the tub. She whimpered anew, her lower jaw trembling, but did not tear her eyes off him. Slowly, very slowly, Godric sank, and the human sank with him.

For a long while, they remained together, his hands cupping water and washing it over her form. She examined his ministrations, followed his hands with her eyes, but stayed ever silent. When finally her trembles ceased and her temperature righted, he ordered her to close her eyes and hold her breath.

Then, he immersed her completely, her hair inking into the water. For a moment, Godric watched her, then watched her more, and something in the cavity of his chest stirred, something that was not to do with the link, and he felt air fill his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I did not explain anything about...anything, so hopefully next chapter we'll get to find out what really happened to her. I just wanted this chapter to be reserved for Godric and Ludmila and whatever theyre feeling, big or small. c:


End file.
